


Collection of drabbles.

by rufflefeather



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufflefeather/pseuds/rufflefeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of drabbles. If any have more than one part, there will be links at the bottom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rub-a-dub-dub (Genie!Merlin 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Merlin is a genie.

“We don’t have a  _choice_ , Arthur,” Morgana was saying, “it’s the only way to protect Camelot.” Merlin stretched, yawned widely and hummed as he hovered over the shard with which they summoned him.  
  
“I don’t see why  _I_  have to be the one to share minds with this ... Demon,” Arthur huffed, and Merlin thought he sounded particularly –. Hold  _on_.  
  
“Demon?” he demanded, calling up a whirlwind but Arthur and Morgana just rolled their eyes in unison. “I am Merlin the Great, I’ll have you know. I am Taliesin the Twice Born, I helped build many a city and conquered –”  
  
“We  _know_ ,” Arthur and Morgana said as one, rather rudely and Merlin looked away with his best impression of a haughty and injured genie he could muster. In all fairness, it wasn’t the first time he’d told them that. But still, no need to lose  _all_  decorum, surely.  
  
“Still,” Arthur continued, as if Merlin had never appeared, “I don’t want to share a mind with that pathetic excuse for a spirit. I doubt he can conjure a daffodil, never mind take out an army.”  
  
“Only because you’ve kept me in this world for too long,” Merlin protested, “you only dismissed me a day ago, and that is not enough to replenish my essence, you _know_  that. And besides, it’s not as if  _I_  am so eager to possess  _your_  body. I mean look at it,” Merlin gestured to where Arthur sat, a cloth pressed against a seeping headwound, legs sprawled in different directions, “you’re no prize catch yourself, mister. Would you buy a horse without checking it out first? Show me your teeth.”  
  
“I’ll show you my teeth,” Arthur growled, reaching for his sword and pointing at the shard.  
  
“Well, no need to get  _violent_ ,” Merlin said, eyes wide.  
  
“Oh, I’m  _sorry_ , did I rub you the wrong way?”  
  
“Funny, really, that’s quite –”  
  
“Enough,” Morgana roared, rising to her feet. There was something about Morgana in this state that brooked no argument, so they both fell silent immediately. “Merlin, in Arthur’s body your essence will be replenished and Arthur, with Merlin’s magic you can defeat Nimhueh.”  
  
“Nimueh,” Merlin said, a little deflated, “she’ll be  _so_  cross with me when I defeat her, again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/370629/chapters/612531).


	2. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Arthur/Merlin - infidelity at marguerite_26 's One Word Prompt fest.

‘What about Gwen?’ Merlin’s voice breaks on a dry sob and his hands shake so violently he can’t do anything with the blood-stiffened ties of Arthur’s armor.  _Fuck it,_ he thinks and he looks down to hide the gilding of his irises. The breastplate falls away but Arthur is too far gone to notice anything amiss.  
  
‘I know,’ Arthur rasps, desperate, helpless and it destroys Merlin, ‘I know, but Merlin,  _please_.’   
  
Arthur tastes of bloodshed and grime and despair when Merlin takes off his armor and his burden. He smells of battlefields, of loss and the price of victory. ‘She’ll never know,’ Merlin promises as he sinks to his knees before his King, already feeling the agony of being forgotten. Again. ‘I’ll make sure of that.’


	3. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secret is out. Arthur's initial reaction.

Betrayal is something that is to be expected – like rain hours after the Eastern wind blows over Camelot – for a King. His trust has been breached by friends and enemies alike, many times over. It never felt like this. All these years, Merlin, he wants to say, how could you, but Arthur knows his voice will tremble so he presses his lips firmly shut. Merlin stands, quiet, his eyes rimmed with red like Arthur has witnessed more than once over the years but never understood. He does now. Secrets and lies and losses Merlin could never share with anyone, weighing him down like the blocks tied to witches’ feet before they were thrown in black cold lakes.

 

Not for many years now, and Arthur doesn’t know what stings the most; the betrayal or the lack of trust.

  


If he throws Merlin in the dungeon, he’ll be out before the guards have turned their backs, Arthur realizes and he tries very hard not to think of all those times Merlin nearly died protecting his secret, protecting Arthur. When all he could have done was turn his eyes golden and bend the world to his will. He doesn’t understand. Doesn’t try to. Doesn’t want to.

  


“Leave,” he says. “If we meet again I won’t spare you.”

  


Merlin just looks at him, silent, and they both know he could kill Arthur without a word even while Excalibur’s razor sharp edge persuades a drop of blood from Merlin’s neck. If his death was what Merlin wanted, Arthur would have been buried in the tombs a long time ago. So he steps back, says, “Leave,” again, not even caring that his voice breaks into a thousand pieces on the word.

  


For a second, Merlin looks like he’s about to say something, but one look from Arthur quells that desire. Arthur wants to laugh, finally the servant obeying his lord. He doesn’t, instead he says, “It’s a good thing Gaius isn’t alive to see your lies and deceit.”

  


The retreating back stills, Merlin’s shoulders tense mid-reach toward the doorknob and he bends his head.

  


“Ah,” Arthur says.

  


Of course.

  


The treachery is complete. He doesn’t care if Merlin hears the clatter of the sword as it slips from his grasp. He should get rid of it, it’s probably steeped in magic. But it’s such a good sword.


	4. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a drabble for another prompt, but I can't remember where or for who. /fail. 
> 
> Something along the lines of 'Ladyhawke'.

Frozen tears like stalactites of old dreams break into a thousand shards to the golden sunset of the magician’s eyes. The light drains from the day and in the violet moment where darkness touches light, they know one another. The dragon turns to prince and if sadness was a color, it would be blue. 

Every night and every morning their hands reach out until the sun or the moon steals the memory and the magician becomes a merlin or the pendragon his servant. 

If truth says it is better to love and lose, truth has never witnessed a dawn or dusk between a merlin and his dragon.


	5. Another mad King (genie!Merlin 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More in the Merlin is a genie verse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one is [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/370629/chapters/603740).

“I really don’t see why this has anything to do with _me_ ,” Merlin drawled in Arthur’s head. “Nimueh’s nothing more than a second class weather-djinn when it comes down to it. You don’t need _me_ for this surely, so why don’t you dismiss me and we can both pretend none of this ever happened.”

“I’m no more pleased with this than you are,” Arthur thought back snappishly, “but you’ve been summoned and we’re joined so you’ll do what needs to be done swiftly and _quietly_ and _then_ we’ll proceed to pretend none of this happened.” 

“Fine,” Merlin thought, and then after a pause, “actually, it’s not so bad really. Your head is _very_ roomy. There’s not much going on in here, is there?” Merlin could feel Arthur roll his eyes, and wasn’t that a peculiar sensation. Arthur then went on to make an indignant squawky sound when he noticed his index finger was deeply buried in his own nose. 

“Stop that!” he snapped at Merlin, extracting the finger from its excavations and looking at the knights who were all pointedly shuffling their feet and staring in any direction that wasn’t Arthur’s. Arthur’s shadow made a rude gesture. “And stop that too,” he thought testily at Merlin. “Concentrate on the matter at hand. How are we going to defeat Nimueh?”

“I’m not sure. Last time we met it was in Egypt,” Merlin thought. “She made it rain on me. It would’ve been mildly uncomfortable if we weren’t, you know, in the middle of the _desert_.” He tried rolling Arthur’s eyes, which was what one did following such a thought, apparently. 

“Ouch,” Arthur said, clasping a hand over his left eye. “What are you doing?”

“Trying out your body,” Merlin explained. “After all, I’m going to need to know how it all works in case we have to move fast in battle. Who knows, we might fall over otherwise, and if I don’t know how to get you back up, we might drown in one of Nimueh’s puddles. It’s quite interesting, isn’t it? Your body I mean. Very solid. What does this do?” Merlin asked and Arthur quickly grabbed hold of his own hand before it could venture lower.

“Enough of that,” he said, cheeks heating and casting another quick glance around. The knights had given up trying to be discreet in their eavesdropping and where all staring openly at Arthur grabbing hold of his own right hand. “See what you made me do now?” he hissed.

“Mmm yes,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “They probably think they’ll have another mad King on their hands after Uther the Deranged. Maybe you’ll be remembered as Arthur the Demented. Oh. No, that was your great grandfather wasn’t it? Arthur the Unhinged then. Hang on, wasn’t that your great uncle twice removed? Dear me, it _does_ run in the family, doesn’t it?”

“Will you shut up!” Arthur roared, “and concentrate on the task at hand. What do we have to do?”

“No need to get your underthings in a twist, Arthur, I’m only trying to be _friendly_ ,” Merlin huffed. He attempted to cross Arthur’s arm in a peevish gesture, but Arthur fought it and ended up slapping himself in the face.

“I’m warning you, Merlin, when this is all over I will lock you away in a bottle and give you to my niece Mildred.” 

Merlin, who had seen the frightful little girl and how she treated her cats, was shocked. “Not Mildred,” he pleaded. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Go on then, what do we need to do?”

“I need to test my power in your body, this is all new to me too you know. I'll have to make sure everything works. Let me try it on one of your knights.” Merlin could feel Arthur’s reluctance. “Or I could just try it on you.”

“Percival!” Arthur said, “Step forward.”

Merlin snapped Arthur’s fingers. “Yes,” he thought as he felt Arthur’s jaw drop. All the knights stood in a half circle around Percival, Arhur on the other side, unsure what to do with the enormous knight, who was dressed in nothing but a tiny pink skirt and was dancing one pirouette after an other.

“Bravo!” Merlin called with Arthur’s voice. “Now take a bow before your King, Percival.”

“Seems to work quite well don’t you think?” he thought at Arthur, who shook his head in exasperation while all the knights groaned in unison and covered their eyes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three is [ here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/370629/chapters/617293).


	6. Heart's Desire (genie!Merlin 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I needed to write some fluff as a counter balance for my BB. This happened. More Merlin-is-a-genie.

Merlin was drifting happily in the neverending semi-awareness of the place he went to when he wasn’t on earth. He couldn’t exactly describe where or what it was, really. He just knew there were no boundaries, there was no pain and there was no real passing of time. It was just a pleasant state of _being._ So it wasn’t very surprising he felt a little miffed when the pull of a summons came. 

_Again?_ he thought. There might not have been a passing of time in this other place, but he still had the sense that he hadn’t been away from earth for long enough so his essence could replenish to its usual strength. Still, he began to prepare himself for his apparition. 

When he was a young genie, Merlin had often resorted to taking on hideous forms in the hope his Masters would send him away again in a hurry. The first time he’d been summoned, by Semerkhet of the First Egyptian Dynasty in 2900 BCE, Merlin had taken on the form of a gigantic cat. It had somehow backfired and cats had been considered holy for a long time after that. Best not to dwell on that for too long. Merlin hadn’t been summoned again for nearly 2 millennia, when he had supported Nefertiti’s reign for the few short years she’d ruled after Akhenaten’s death. She’d been his first introduction to how fragile human life really was. He was also the only one left who knew what had become of her. Merlin had loved Nefertiti from afar and it still made him sniff with derision when the unique beauty of her bust was attributed to that clumsy oaf Thutmose. 

“He couldn’t sculpt a blob of clay if it hit him in the face,” Merlin was overheard saying with tedious regularity. “And they think _he_ created that bust? I _ask_ you.”

He’d been in a terrible mood for centuries after that. He’d been so upset he’d managed to get himself trapped in an oil lamp for _years_ until some hapless boy rubbed it. Merlin’d appeared as a large blue blob with a wicked grin and a bald head apart from a little black ponytail, had told some lie about three wishes but the boy had been clever. In the end it had been a good few decades. Lots of adventures. And princess Jasmine _was_ very pretty. Again he’d had to witness the fleetingness of human life, like a puff of smoke in the wind.

Merlin had ceased his appearances as monsters when he’d scared a girl half to death by appearing as a beast with the head of a vulture and the body of a lion. All she’d wanted was a bowl of stew for her hungry little brother too and Merlin had given in to an alarming bout of sentimentality he’d _never_ admit to. Ever.

Still, that was why now he always preceded his appearance with the gentle scent of orange blossom, fragrancing the room with it while he took the innocent form of a young man with lanky limbs and honest, large blue eyes. After all, if his Master turned out to be a prat he could always change, still.

“Oh,” Merlin said, pulling the cloud of orange blossom around him like a comforting cloak. “It’s _you._ ” A gryphon, maybe? Or perhaps a wyvern. He hadn’t been one of those for a long time. Or maybe he could turn into that horrid creature of clay they had fought underneath Camelot’s dungeons all those years ago.

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur said. “If you’re considering what kind of petty little monster you could turn into this time, don’t bother. We both know you’ll give up and turn into yourself again anyway.”

Merlin opened his mouth to argue that this was just a guise like all the others, but decided to save his breath. The truth was, – a truth he’d only admit to if he was faced with the _worst_ kind of torture, and then some – he kind of liked Arthur. Kind of liked him a lot. Underneath that smug arrogance there was _something_. Something rare Merlin had only come across once or twice in his long, long existence. He just learnt his lesson, that’s all. Humans were brief, even if they lived to a ripe old age. And Merlin was always the one left behind. 

“What do you want this time?” he asked, pouring just enough exasperation and boredom into his voice to set Arthur’s teeth on edge. Merlin grinned inwardly. It was one of the reasons he liked Arthur, after all; so easy to rile. 

“I’m cold,” Arthur said from his chair by the window. “Start a fire.”

Merlin raised a meaningful eyebrow. “You summoned me because you are too lazy to lift your royal arse and build a fire in your own hearth? Or not even that! Walk to the door and have a servant do it for you?” He couldn’t believe this. “Oh, I _like_ that.” He crossed his arms. 

Arthur grinned. “Why would I do either, when I have you?”

“You do know,” Merlin said softly, leaning forward a little from the shard he was hovering above, “that I could snuff you out of existence with just one thought?”

This seemed to peak Arthur’s interest, because he leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Then why don’t you?” he asked, his voice equally soft.

Well. 

Merlin walked right into that one, didn’t he. 

“Oh,” Arthur added, with the smug smile that told Merlin this afterthought was anything but, “start the fire without magic would you? It’s so much warmer.”

Merlin hopped off his shard and walked toward the hearth, muttering to himself about being “Taliesin the Twice Born,” and “Having single-handedly built the Pond-du-Gard, thank you very much,” and “Was his Royal Highness even aware of Merlin being the sole reason the Nile still flooded every year?”. 

“Why do you look like that?” Arthur asked when Merlin straightened, coughing up a puff of soot.  
“Look like what?” he asked dubiously. Merlin carefully reigned in his ears a little. He _had_ been known to have them stick out a little _too_ much, but he found it endeared him to people. And not _every_ Master was nice, so Merlin wasn’t above using every trick in the book to appear harmless. 

“All see through.” Arthur rose to his feet. “You look like my hand would go right through you.”

“Well it would,” Merlin said, puzzled. “Holding a form takes a lot of energy so I don’t become completely solid if I don’t have to. And why,” Merlin added, frowning now, “would you _want_ to touch me?” It was odd. Apart from Nefertiti (okay, so maybe they hadn’t loved from _afar_ as such,) – (and there had been the boy whose life had been too short to make a mark on history but who Merlin never forgot. His hair had been black like raven and soft like silk. It was during his time Merlin had enchanted the foundations of the Great Wall of China so it would never crumble. Much. What? It _is_ a very long wall.) humans generally didn’t want to be touched by their djinn. 

This had Arthur startled. He shuffled his feet and looked decidedly at the flames instead of Merlin. “I just,” he began. “Um,” he tried anew. “Well. You know.”

Merlin’s frown deeped. “No, Arthur, I really don’t.”

“Well, never mind,” Arthur said briskly, “the reason I summoned you, is–”

“Oh, so there’s a _reason_?” Merlin said. “How novel.”

“Shut up, Merlin. The reason you’re here. I –” Again Arthur broke off, looked away. “I overheard you say you can show a man’s heart’s desires.”

Ah.

“Yes,” Merlin said slowly, “I can. But Arthur, that can be a dangerous business.”

“How so?” Arthur asked. He wasn’t looking at Merlin, but at the flames that danced on the logs.

“It hardly ever is what you expect,” Merlin said carefully. “And it never fails to bring trouble.”

“I want to know,” Arthur said, his voice barely a whisper above the hiss of flames.

Merlin suppressed the urge to ask why. “Very well,” he said after a moment. Merlin spread out a hand, felt heat flare behind his eyes. Arthur looked at him enthralled, almost missing the image that appeared between them.

It was a map, faintly transparent but clear none the less. A map of a united Albion. It bloomed and then disappeared, making room for the image of a woman who had Arthur’s eyes and who smiled a little sadly. Merlin looked at Arthur who stared at the image as if he willed her to become real. Merlin tried to hang on to it for as long as he could but it faded soon into nothing, until there was just the two of them in the room again, with the sound of the fire and the scent of orange blossom heavy around them.

The scent of orange blossom heavy around them.

Oh.

 _Oh_!

Arthur seemed to realize the meaning of this at the same time Merlin did. His eyes widened comically and he stepped back. He seemed to bristle, his features fighting the emotions that warred within him. Until he said, “I –,” and then the fight went out of him. “Have you? Ever? I mean–?” Arthur asked.

“Well,” Merlin began, puffing up his chest and holding out his hands as if he was about to start counting down a long list, but something in Arthur’s eyes stopped him. There was apprehension there and a vulnerability Merlin hadn’t seen before. Merlin exhaled and his chest deflated. “Twice,” he said, his voice small and he knew he couldn’t keep the hurt out of his eyes or voice as he recalled what it had felt like to lose them. “It hurts too much when they, when –.” He stopped. Looked away.

Arthur reached for him. His hand stopped short of Merlin’s chest. “Could you –?” he whispered, gesturing toward Merlin’s body.

Merlin concentrated, felt his being grow more defined in this world. “There,” he said softly.

Arthur stepped closer and pressed his palm against Merlin’s chest. “Can I,” Arthur began, and stopped again, biting his lip. “This isn’t an order,” he said, so quietly Merlin hardly heard him. “This isn’t a wish, or whatever. I don’t want you to think this is something you have to –”

Merlin folded his hand around Arthur’s wrist and tugged gently. Then, he kissed him, carefully because it had been centuries since he’d touched anyone like this. Arthur sighed against him, moulded around him like they were destined for this. 

And maybe they were. 

For a while at least.


	7. it's no heart that beats.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin wakes up after being buried beneath the ice for two thousand years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little BBC Merlin/Avengers crossover *g*

“Are you all right?” the doctor –– Gwen –– asks.  
  
“Yes,” Merlin says, looking at a skyline that may as well have been another world. “It’s just ––. Well. Two thousand years is a long time.” He wonders if he’ll ever feel warm again, having been asleep under the ice for so long.  
  
He hadn’t been fooled when he had woken up. They had tried to recreate a familiar environment but everything had immediately and permanently felt wrong. He had run, onto a street with hundreds of people and mind-numbing noise. The doctor –– Gwen, and wasn’t that just fate having a laugh at his expense –– had met him when he was surrounded, and explained.  
  
 _You’ve been asleep for almost two thousand years._  
  
 _But Arthur,_  he had said, still disoriented,  _Arthur waits for me._  
  
“It’s just that, you keep rubbing your chest,” Gwen says, pulling him back to the rooftop, to the grey city before him, to this lonely, lonely life.  _Am I really alive?_  he thinks, _I don’t think my heart can beat if there is no Arthur in this world._  
  
“Oh,” Merlin says, looking down at the palm spread over his shirt. “It’s an old scar. It’s tingling for some reason.” A memento from the first time he’d been willing to lay down his life for Arthur.  
  
“Do you want me to take a look?” Gwen asks, indicating the fire escape behind them. “It’s getting dark anyway, and the others are waiting.”  
  
“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Let’s go meet the others.”  
  
The others. Super-humans, demi-gods, half men, half monsters. They believe Merlin was found at this time because the earth is in grave peril. Merlin wishes he hadn’t been found at all, then this world wouldn’t have meant a thing to him. He’s not sure he does now. It’s not his home.  
  
Gwen holds the door to a conference room and he steps inside. Around the oval table is a very ordinary looking man, a giant with a hammer and someone with his legs kicked out before him, tapping a pen in such an irritated manner, Merlin wants to make it explode with one thought.  
  
As if the man can hear him, he looks up with a smirk. A smirk that looks so familiar it hurts. Beneath the man's shirt, right there, right where Merlin's scar burns, something glows. When blue, blue eyes widen in recognition, Merlin feels alive for the first time.  
  
“… Thor and Iron Man,” Gwen finishes beside him but Merlin isn’t listening.  
  
All Merlin can think is,  _he is here, he has returned.  
  
Arthur._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here at LJ](http://camelot-drabble.livejournal.com/17535.html)


	8. Give in to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin has to deal with Arthur's eh... you'll see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a long time ago, at the very beginning of my Merlin fandom days, I wrote [Strange Winds](http://archiveofourown.org/works/365502), a body swap story. This is a little extra I wanted to write but never did *g*. You don't need to read SW to get it, all you need to know is that Merlin is stuck in Arthur's body and visa versa. 
> 
> This contains some material bordering on R.

It is the softest of moans, that wakes him, being the light sleeper that he is when outdoors. The moan takes a moment to locate itself as coming from Merlin’s mouth and it only sinks in when Arthur hears it followed with a very quiet _ah shit_.  
  
‘What’s the matter, Merlin?’ he asks, his voice still low and hoarse with sleep. It’s too early to rise even though grey light already seeps along the slightly dewy forest floor. The fire has all but gone out, casting just enough light over the form that is Merlin in his body.  
  
‘Nothing go back to sleep,’ Merlin answers but his voice sounds choked and Arthur frowns.   
  
‘Man, you sound awful. Are you ill?’ He props himself up on one elbow to have a better look at him, but Merlin rolls away onto his side.  
  
‘No, ‘m fine. Go back to sleep.’   
  
Arthur’s frown only deepens, as does his worry because Merlin really sounds like he is in pain. Quietly he rises to his feet, walks around the still form on the other side of the campfire and squats down.  
  
‘Shit, Arthur, _go away_ _,_ ’ Merlin mutters when he notices him there pulling his cloak closer.  
  
‘Look, if you’re dying here I’d like to know since you’re sort of in my body.’ Arthur tells him a bit miffed, not understanding why Merlin is screwing his eyes shut like that or why he is hunching his shoulders forward as if he is trying to crawl into himself.  
  
‘I’m not dying here okay, I’m fine. Please, just. Leave me alone.’ Merlin’s adam’s apple bobs up and down in an awkward swallow before he tucks his chin into his chest, hiding half his face underneath the cloak. It doesn’t cover up the reddening of his forehead, barely visible in the waning firelight and the swelling dawn.  
  
‘Merlin,’ Arthur says with a small laugh. ‘Are you blushing?’  
  
‘No!’ comes Merlin’s too fast but still muffled reply. ‘Just go away.’  
  
‘All right, I had enough of this.’ Arthur laughs, taking a fist full of the cloak and yanking it away.   
  
Merlin, who is lying curled up with his knees almost touching his chest startles, quickly turning onto his stomach. ‘Bloody hell Arthur, why don’t you just fuck off!’  
  
But it’s too late. The evidence was impossible to miss the way it stood out like a sore thumb. A very large, painful looking sore thumb at that.  
  
‘Oh,’ is all Arthur can say when it dawns on him.   
  
‘Just. Don’t. Okay? Can you just, please leave?’  
  
‘Right,” Arthur says, throat suddenly very dry. “Of course. Eh, how far and how long away do you need?’  
  
‘No. Not like that! I mean, just go back to sleep. Or something.’  
  
‘Or something,’ Arthur repeats without thinking and Merlin groans into his bedroll. ‘Sorry. Sure.’ Arthur pushes himself to his feet, walks back to his own sleeping place after tossing another log on the fire, and tucking his cloak around him, lies down. It is impossible to sleep however, his eyes drifting to Merlin against his will whenever he moves or makes a noise he just can’t keep strangled down. Minutes seem to plod by at the rate of a century until the air is so thick Arthur feels like he has trouble breathing.  
  
‘Merlin,’ he tries again after he hears him mouth a particularly heartfelt _Oh God_ into the fabric of his sleeve. But in reply Merlin kicks the cloak off and pushes himself up into a seated position, his legs crossed at the ankles, elbows on his knees and face in hands.   
  
‘Why,’ he croaks into his palms, because he is near desperation and just can’t find the willpower to be embarrassed about talking to Arthur about this. ‘Why won’t it just go down?’  
  
Arthur sits up too and he chews his bottom lip for a moment. ‘It’s my fault.’ He says eventually , coming out with something he didn’t mean to after running so many other responses through his mind.    
  
‘How’d you figure that?’   
  
Arthur stares at Merlin’s hunched form, his own back really, and frowns a little, torn between feeling no desire to discuss this with anyone and sympathy for what Merlin is going through. ‘I didn’t… take care of things for a few days. First there was the border patrol with the knights and there was just no - opportunity and then I was so bone tired, I just didn’t and then this crap happened so… it’s been too long, I guess.’  
  
‘I guess,’ Merlin says, weakly.   
  
‘You know, you can-. I mean,’ Arthur puffs up his cheeks and forces a deep breath between his lips. ‘I can go away and fetch us some fresh water. There is a stream nearby. I’ll be about half an hour.’ He rises to his feet, trying not to think too much about… things.  
  
‘It won’t work,’ Merlin tells him miserably, just when Arthur is about to pass him by, resolutely fixing his eyes on anything but Merlin’s direction. And of course Arthur has to look then and he winces when Merlin doesn’t pull the cloak over his legs in time to hide the strain of his trousers.  
  
‘What do you mean, it won’t work?’ Arthur asks him and he tries not to sound testy.   
  
‘I tried and-,’ Merlin cringes visibly. ‘It is just too weird I think, I-, I can’t … finish.’   
  
The silence swells and Arthur hovers, not knowing what to do or say.  
  
‘Maybe you can point me in the direction of that stream,’ Merlin tells him, weakly attempting a joke but it only sounds a little pitiful. So Arthur doesn’t really know what he is doing when his feet carry him closer to Merlin. When he puts a hand on his shoulder. First his right hand on one, then his left on the other.  
  
‘What are y-,’ Merlin starts, glancing up when Arthur bends at the knees and settles behind him, the inside of his thighs pressing against the outside of Merlin’s hips. ‘Arthur, what?’ Merlin tries again but Arthur only squeezes his shoulders and says; ‘I’m just helping you out.’  
  
‘But-,’  
  
‘Just, don’t think Merlin. Just surrender to me,’ Arthur says as his hands travel down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for camelot_drabble and [here on LJ.](http://camelot-drabble.livejournal.com/28267.html)


End file.
